


Playing Dice

by galaxysoup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Post-Season/Series 11 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxysoup/pseuds/galaxysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finally, finally loses his temper. Given how long he’s been reining it in, the results are impressive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Dice

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little missing scene, written half to get my writing juices flowing again and half for shameless self-indulgence. I realise there’s less than no possibility it will happen in canon, but hey - a girl can dream, right?

Being banished is much more painful with his Grace so damaged.

For a long, agonizing moment after he lands Castiel can neither move nor concentrate on anything besides struggling not to scream in his true voice lest he damage any nearby humans. When the pain has ebbed enough for the danger to pass, he rolls onto his side and attempts to get to his feet. It takes more than one try.

There are no humans nearby. He is in the desert. The Australian outback, to be precise, about seventeen kilometers northeast of Uluru.

He is in the desert, in Australia, and Sam is in Lebanon with a gun pointed at his head, and Castiel cannot fly.

He falls to his knees, horrified by his failure. The last - _only_ \- thing Dean had asked him to do was to look after Sam. He had looked after Sam all right, for two hours and thirty-seven minutes, and then he got himself banished to Australia and left Sam at gunpoint.

There has been so much loss this day. Dean’s absence is so vast that he cannot even comprehend it properly. It is not fair that he will lose Sam too. It is not _fair_.

Abruptly, the icy despair in his chest turns to a hot tide of anger. He has been so good the last few days. He has not demanded apologies for God’s absence like Lucifer did, or asked to be healed like Metatron. He accepted that his broken, ruined Grace was his punishment for his transgressions, that he was too insignificant to warrant notice or special favors. He had pushed all those feelings deep down inside and focused on protecting what he could.

He had failed at that, too. And if God had not abandoned them, if God had stopped playing human at any point in the last several years, all of this could have been avoided. So much heartbreak and anguish, so many sacrifices and soul-tarnishing compromises, so many times when they had bled and suffered and dragged themselves through the muck, and none of it would have happened if God had ever, for even just a moment, cared about them at all.

God is dead and there is nothing but void left behind him, but in lieu of destroying the desert Castiel throws all his rage and all his remaining power into one single, near-wordless prayer: _fuck you, you son of a bitch - fuck you, fuck you, **fuck you**_.

**HOLY WOW, CASTIEL, _WHAT?_**

Castiel rocks back on his heels. _...Father?_

**YES, OBVIOUSLY, NOW _WHAT?_ KINDA IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING HERE.**

Castiel feels his brain hitch with shock. _You’re… not dead._

 **CLEARLY,** God says witheringly.

If God is not dead and the universe is still in place, then balance has been retained and Amara is still alive. And if Amara is still alive and the sun has been healed, then turning Dean into a bomb failed but God was able to achieve a ceasefire regardless.

_You have reached an accord with the Darkness._

**_YES,_ CASTIEL,** God says with what Castiel considers to be an inappropriate amount of exasperation.

Rage threatens to blind him once more. If God managed to make peace with the Darkness, why _the fuck_ hadn’t he done it in time to save Dean. Why would he - how _could_ he - Castiel does not have much, he has never asked for much, all he and Sam need -

With effort, he forces his feelings down. This is not a time to be angry. This is a time to think strategically.

_A lot of people died before you did so. Your people._

**YES. I KNOW.** In fairness, God does sound guilty.

Castiel is not inclined to be fair. 

_Are you planning to be more involved from now on?_

**NO,** God says slowly. **NO, I DON’T THINK THAT WOULD BE WISE.**

Castiel had not expected a different answer, nor does he particularly disagree.

_Then the least that you can do for those of us who survived is to return Dean Winchester._

**...WHAT?** God sounds genuinely puzzled, which tells Castiel everything he needs to know about how much God has been paying attention to his minions in general and Castiel in particular.

Stop. Focus. Keep the anger at bay.

_Bring Dean Winchester back to life. Now. You owe humanity that much._

**CASTIEL, DEAN IS FINE. HE’S ALIVE. HE’S PROBABLY HITCHHIKING BACK FROM TORONTO AS WE SPEAK. MAYBE HIS CELL PHONE DIED?**

Hope surges within him. _And - and Sam?_

**HE’S ALIVE, ALTHOUGH HE SEEMS KINDA - HUH. INTERESTING. WELL, HE’S ALIVE, IS THE POINT.**

The rush of relief is staggering, and unbidden, his eyes sting with tears. Deep down, he has always known there is a high probability that he will outlive the Winchesters. Whether they die peacefully in their old age or violently in their prime, the knowledge that he will have to witness it is something that he tries very hard not to dwell on.

For a long moment, all he can think is _not yet. thank you. not yet. not yet._

It sounds like Sam is still in danger, though, and Castiel is still in an Australian desert, and it’s possible that he has maneuvered God into a position that is still useable.

_Then give us Charlie Bradbury._

God sighs. **CASTIEL, THIS ISN’T ACTUALLY A NEGOTIATION -**

 **I don’t know, that seems pretty reasonable to me,** a new voice says.

Castiel’s entire body flinches in revulsion. He is a being of light, and even if Amara is no longer explicitly his enemy she is a being of darkness - _the_ being of darkness - and has done terrible things to his friends and allies. To _Dean_.

**AMARA…**

**What? I did something nice for Dean, I should do something nice for Sam, too. You’re the one who’s always after me to create instead of destroy. And besides, the little angel’s too damaged to get home on his own. He could use some help.**

**WE CAN’T JUST RESURRECT PEOPLE WILLY-NILLY, THERE’S AN ORDER TO THINGS -**

**Dean got someone back. It isn’t good when siblings are treated differently.**

There’s a heavy, loaded silence.

 _Charlie died trying to find a way to deal with the Mark,_ Castiel says coldly. He should probably be frightened or deferential right now, but he’s mostly just tired of being talked over. _She was as much a victim of your inability to communicate as everyone else who has perished._

God sighs. **LOOK, KIDDO -**

 _No!_ Abruptly, the rage overwhelms him again. He will not, _will not_ sit here in a fucking desert while Sam is in danger and let God treat him like a child when God has never, ever, acted like a father to him before. _I am **not yours**. I’m a Winchester, Dean made me a Winchester, and so is Charlie. **Give her to me.**_

The silence this time is shocked. Castiel does not regret a thing he has said, not a single thing, and he will say it again if they do not answer him. He knows his prayers can reach them now if he tries hard enough. He will sit here and scream at them for the rest of eternity if he has to. He has reached the end of his patience and his tolerance, and if all he can do is snatch one person back then he will do it. They will have to unmake him to shut him up. 

**Well, I’m sold,** the Darkness says.

There is a heavy pressure in the air, and for an instant Castiel loses the ability to use his human senses. When they return to him, Charlie is lying on the sand next to him looking very startled.

Castiel doesn’t bother trying to say anything else. He knows God and the Darkness have gone.

“Um, Cas?” Charlie says. “What just happened? Where are we? I, um… I really kind of thought I died? And - and are you crying?”

“You did die,” Castiel says, wiping his face with his sleeve and helping her to her feet. Her hand is solid and blessedly real against his own, and once she is upright he can't make himself let go of it. “We are in the Australian outback.” Teleporting them home would have been simplicity itself, but no, of course they’re still going to have to walk. As Dean would say, _for fuck’s sake_. “As for what has happened it is a very long story, but we have a seventeen kilometer hike ahead of us and then at least a twenty-eight hour flight so I’m sure we’ll get through most of it.”

"Okay," Charlie says. "I mean, I always wanted to see Australia, I guess." She gives the desert around them an uncertain smile and tightens her grip on his hand.

"Stay close to me," Castiel says. "I will lead you through the desert and keep you safe."

"Wow," Charlie says, smile becoming a good deal more real. "That's pretty mythic, Cas. I like it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After Castiel and Charlie have gone, there is a silence in the desert that lasts for seconds and eternities at the same time.

 **AMARA,** God says finally, wearily.

 **Yes, brother?** Amara says, sugary sweet with innocence.

**YOU REALLY CAN’T JUST BRING PEOPLE BACK.**

**I know, I know. Proper order to things - an order you invented, by the way, but never mind - blah blah blah. Nobody else, I promise. Just the mother for Dean and the friend-sister-person for Sam.**

God sighs. A minor sandstorm flattens a nearby patch of spinnifex. **AMARA.**

**Brother?**

****I’M OMNISCIENT, AMARA. YOU MEAN THE MOTHER FOR DEAN, THE FRIEND-SISTER-PERSON FOR CASTIEL, AND THE FIANCEE FOR SAM. THREE PEOPLE. I CAN COUNT, YOU KNOW. I ACTUALLY INVENTED NUMBERS.** **

****I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.** **

****JESSICA MOORE, AMARA. I CAN SEE HER RIGHT NOW. SHE’S UNTYING SAM AND SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.** **

**Oh, her,** Amara says, with badly fabricated surprise. **No idea how she got through. Honestly. I’m new to this whole creation thing, you know. Easy mistake to make.**

God’s groan sounds like thunder, if thunder could be said to have a bit of a whine to it. **UGH. YOU’RE SO ANNOYING.**

**Shut up and watch,** Amara says. There’s a sound suspiciously like popcorn popping, if the popcorn were made of universal constants and lightly dusted with buttery existentialism. **This is going to be amazing.**

**Author's Note:**

> I read a bunch of Terry Pratchett before I wrote this, and it probably shows. But come on - Terry Pratchett God-and-Amara would be amazing.
> 
> (Why can't I stop resurrecting people, it's like a sickness)


End file.
